Bright Silver Stars
by Lundberg
Summary: "A great serve doesn't make a great player." Shishido Ryou lost and is no longer a regular. Devastated, alone and crushed, he knows he has only one chance to once again be a regular; defeat the newest regular, Ootori Choutarou. All he has to do is destroy him.


A/N: Just recently started watching PoT again. Still as good as ever, and the Silver pair is still one of my favorite pairs! Slightly AU I guess. English is not my first language, so excuse me for any spelling/grammar errors.

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**Bright Silver Stars**

_Chapter 1: the boy with the incredible serve_

* * *

Defeat.

Definition; failure to win, the act of defeat or state of being defeated. To be eliminated. Third-year Shishido Ryou remembered the feeling of being crushed. There were no other word for it, honestly, as he had been painfully and utterly defeated by unseeded Fudomine's Tachibana. It was embarrassing, really, and it was so unlike himself to be so pathetic. To be a disgrace.

Somewhere along the way, Shishido had started to acquire respect for their captain, Atobe Keigo, the superior player of all the two-hundred members. Atobe's philosophy was quite simple, and also part of the reason why Shishido had chosen Hyoutei Gakuen in the first place. Lose, and you will no longer be a regular. It was an effective, ambitious way to get rid of all the deadweight. Shishido just never thought he'd be part of that deadweight.

A week had passed since then, the last time he wore the regular jersey and also disgraced it so horribly. He had wanted to be the best, but he never knew he had been so far from his dream. His dream had been crushed, torn to pieces, and all he could do was watch as his future became unclear, foggy, a veil of uncertainty covering it. It had also been a week since he last held a racket in his hand, heard the beautiful sound of the racket hitting the small, yellow ball, a week since he last had been standing on a court.

The first two days after the game, Shishido had stayed at home. To his mother, he pretended he had fever, despite knowing what a coward move that was. Would the remaining regulars search for him in the hallways, laugh at him for being this weak, or even ignore him? So, instead of finding out what they would do, he decided that it was safest, for his own sake, not to go to school. As soon as his mother had left for work, he had grabbed his stuff and went out for a walk. Past the street tennis courts, past the small parks, through the shopping district, through the rain.

After that, he had returned to school. He had been feeling like a zombie ever since, like he wasn't really present in his own body, and it was terrifying. Would he feel like this for the remainder of the year? Would he stay like this, someone this weak, until graduation? It hurt to admit this, but honestly, he could see no other way.

Now, Shishido was standing, or rather hiding, by a tree just outside the tennis courts. Looking on from the outside like this, he once again realized what an amazing team Hyoutei really was. Two hundred members, everyone competing for a regular spot, first years working on the basics, second years challenging each other, touching up their skills, third years watching longily after the regulars. Yes, the regulars who had three courts for themselves, each hitting the ball with such finesse the rest did not even come close to. Beautiful strokes, composed attitudes, and one goal. Nationals. Would he ever have the chance to be part of that once again?

Shishido's brown eyes searched for a new regular, his replacement, but could not see him. He realized Atobe was missing as well, and a horrid feeling started to work itself up from the gut of his stomach. And sure enough, while he was still hiding in the shadow of the tree, he could see Atobe emerge from the regulars' club room. A tall, lanky kid walked behind him, fidgeting as they got closer to the courts. Shishido raised an eyebrow in disbelief, a sudden rage growing inside him. He knew he'd be replaced. That was a given. He had just expected… someone strong. He didn't even know this kid's name, and Shishido knew of all the strong players in Hyotei. This kid was not one of them, and a whirlwind of emotions was raging inside of him.

Shishido was quite a bit away from the courts, but he could still see the kid's most noticeable feature; his height. He was taller than the rest of the regulars, with the exception of Kabaji who towered over all of them. The kid had slightly messy, silver hair and while Shishido could not see his eyes from this distance, the kid looked nervous. Shishido got up from his spot under the tree and walked away before Atobe and the newly appointed regular entered the court. The kid would not last long.

* * *

His hand gripped the racket for the first time since that game. He still shuddered at the memory, and while Shishido would not admit this to anyone, he dreamed nightmares about the short-haired, monstrous Tachibana. Maybe this would help him a bit; his body had craved this like a drug. After all, the tennis courts was where he was supposed to be. And while these street courts may not be the luxurious courts of Hyoutei, they were still courts. The same length, a net, white lines, the place where he felt at ease.

It had gotten dark. The large lights lit up the lone court they were playing at, and the only sound that could be heard was the train passing by just outside the courts along with the sound of a ball hitting their rackets. On the other side of the net, a very acrobatic, red-haired player was doing all of his crazy moves to get the ball over the net. The other player looked kind of out of place without his blue-haired doubles partner, but they rallied back and forth nonetheless. While Shishido didn't feel like confronting the rest of the regulars, this one was okay. Gakuto Mukahi was the only one he had known before Hyotei, a childhood friend of sorts. It wasn't much, especially not since they seemed to have drifted apart when Gakuto had started to play doubles. Shishido was a singles player, and he would always be.

"Hey, what was that serve?" the energetic Gakuto said when he double fautled. Shishido glared at him.

"Shut it!" he yelled. "Who's in the lead, huh?" Shishido actually had the lead, and it felt good. Now, Gakuto wasn't a singles player, but it didn't matter. Shishido was winning, and he loved it. When Gakuto waved his racket at him from the other side of the net, already having changed positions, Shishido quickly moved over to the other half of the court.

"Just hurry up and serve!" Gakuto said, a grin present on his lips. Shishido concentrated at the ball in his hand, watched how it flew over his head, how he hit it just at the highest point. His serve wasn't one of his stronger points, but it was decent enough. Shishido was thankful that Gakuto had shown up here, probably knowing he would find him here. He liked being here, but ever since his loss, all he had been doing was watching.

"Nice game." Gakuto said as they were both laying on their backs, panting.

"Yeah." Shishido mumbled, watching the night sky above them, his sweaty clothes clinging to his body.

"You know, we think you should be a regular." Gakuto said after a few seconds of silence, and Shishido closed his eyes, took a deep breath.

"We?" He then replied.

"Yeah. Yuushi and I." Gakuto said. "There's a new guy." Shishido nodded, even though Gakuto couldn't see it. He popped himself up on his elbows and searched the court with his eyes for his water bottle.

"I know." He muttered. He got up from the ground as he spotted the bottle on one of the benches, and as he returned, Gakuto was standing up. The red-haired player was shorter than him, the shortest one of all the regulars, and now, he looked straight at him.

"His name is Ootori. Ootori Choutarou." Gakuto said. "Just thought you wanted to know." He added, his almost violet eyes intently watching Shishido. He looked more serious than he ever had in all these years Shishido had known him, and he looked almost determined. But why? Wasn't all hope gone? Shishido couldn't even remember if anyone who once had been dropped from the regulars had grabbed one of the few spots again.

"Never heard of him." Shishido muttered as he took a large gulp of the water, its coldness sweeping down his throat.

"He's a second year." Shishido almost choked on the water. He, a third year, was being replaced by not only some weak-ass kid, but a second year? His grip on the poor water bottle tightened, but he tried to hide it, tried to remain stoic.

"A second year, huh?" he said, glad that his bangs covered his now blazing, blue eyes.

"Yup. But he's nothing special, really. You're, like, way ahead of him." Gakuto said, suddenly sounding cheerful, like the Gakuto he knew of. "Except for your serve, of course. But your serve is pretty sucky." He added, and earned a glare from Shishido.

"My serve's fine." He said, throwing the large tennis bag over his shoulder. Gakuto did the same, both of them heading toward the exit.

"Maybe, but Ootori's serve is amazing. Seriously. You won't believe it until you see it." Gakuto said, and Shishido once again felt that annoyance he had felt when he first had seen this Ootori.

"A great serve doesn't make a great player." Shishido said, and before Gakuto could reply, Shishido headed off toward his house, which thankfully lay nearby. "Thanks." He added over his shoulder, throwing a glance back at the waving Gakuto. He waved back, a half-hearted wave, before a master plan started to mold itself inside his mind as he was heading home. Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance. If this Ootori wasn't that good, then what if Shishido beat him? If he beat Ootori in a match, there was no way Atobe and coach could keep him off the team. Everything they did was in the team's best interest, after all. Shishido would make sure to once again wear that regular jersey. He would take his spot back, even if it meant crushing Ootori.

* * *

It was Shishido's turn to clean the classroom, along with his ever so apathetic classmate, Jin. Jin was off somewhere doing god knows what, and Shishido was slowly sweeping the floors with the broom. He yawned every now and again, almost falling asleep while he watched the sun blazing through the window. The weather was nice today, and his heart clenched just a little bit more when he thought of the regulars out there, just beneath his classroom's windows, perfecting their skills, preparing for the next match, drowning in their own sweat, pushing their bodies to their limits. And here he was, sweeping the goddamn floor.

He swore under his breath as Jin still hadn't returned. All of his classmates had let out the breath they all had been holding when Jin had been paired up with Shishido. And now, all alone, sweeping the floors, he paused by the windows. He paused for just a second, but that was enough. Earlier, he had considered himself lucky. He had a seat just by the window, and fate would just so have it that the regulars' courts were just beneath the window. He used to zone out during the lessons, throwing longingly looks at the courts. The last few days however, it had been a pain. Now, he actually had to concentrate at the lessons instead of gazing out the window, and that sucked.

But now, however, just this second, he knew what Gakuto had been talking about. The serve of the second-year. He had actually suspected that Gakuto had spoken too highly of it, like he usually did when he got excited about stuff. But this serve… Gakuto had probably spoken too lowly of it. The serve could barely be seen by the naked eye, and Shishido honestly didn't think that anyone could return it. Could he do it? Could he really stand on the recieving end of that serve and hit it back with such power that he actually stood a chance? As the tall, lanky player, who oddly enough seemed at ease standing on the court, hit his monstrous serve again, Shishido almost trembled. However, it was not of fear. It was excitement. If he could hit that serve back, he could win against anyone. If he could hit back that serve, they would have no other choice but to take him back. If he hit back that serve, he would defeat Ootori.

A smile played on his lips as he hurried to clean the floors. He hadn't felt like this since the match against Tachibana, this excited, this hopeful. He could do this. Ootori wouldn't even know what hit him.


End file.
